‘Hiya, C. Good day?’ he asked, his game controller clutched between his thighs and his uncombed dark hair falling across his face.
‘You’ve not got dressed.’ Carly puffed out her cheeks.
Fergus looked down at his Minecraft lounge trousers and grinned. ‘I have, I was wearing Batman ones this morning.’ The door shut behind him. Every day was a pyjama day to Fergus – how he managed to pay his share of the bills into the joint account each month Carly had no idea. He had tried to explain how it worked a couple of times but, whilst she did use the Internet occasionally, she didn’t really get it and it still baffled her how he got paid for playing children’s games.
She pouted at the shut door and listened to him gabbling on to himself like a total loon. His own grandmother’s phrase popped into her head, recited in her broad Irish accent, ‘Thick as manure but only half as useful.’
Carly started chopping vegetables for a stir-fry and found the action quite therapeutic, although the more she chopped and sliced the more disgruntled she became. It was Wednesday night and she always saw Beth on a Wednesday night; it was takeaway and natter night, a chance to have a night off from signing and give her aching wrists a rest. That had all changed now that Beth had gone.
The flat’s door entry buzzer interrupted her thoughts. She put down the knife and went to see who it was. There was a hunched figure on the screen.
Carly pressed the button to speak. ‘Yeah?’
‘Carly, it’s Nick. Can I come up?’
Carly felt her heart start to race. ‘No, you bloody well can’t. Sod off.’ She leaned across the hallway and opened the playroom door. Fergus looked irritated at first until she pointed at the screen to show Nick’s face peering at them in black and white.
‘Come on, Carly. Elizabeth has blown this all out of proportion. I want to fix things but I can’t if she won’t take my calls.’
Carly felt the need to shout, ‘Out of proportion! You shit, you hit her!’
‘Carly, this is between me and Elizabeth. Tell me where she is. I just want to know she’s all right.’
‘I don’t know where she is,’ she lied, ‘but she is fine now she’s away from you.’
‘What’s he saying?’ asked Fergus and Carly relayed the conversation. ‘Tell him to feck off,’ said Fergus.
‘I’ve tried that. You go down and see him.’
‘Dressed like this?’
Carly shrugged; perhaps he would now see the benefits of getting dressed on a daily basis. She turned her attention back to Nick.
‘Nick, you can stand there till Christmas for all I care. You’re not coming in and I’ll never tell you where she is … even if I knew.’ She put down the entryphone. Nick stood and stared at the screen for a bit. She watched as he tried the door a couple of times and pressed the button again. Carly ignored it. Nick leaned on the button.
Carly swore and then answered. ‘I’ll call the police.’
‘I need to speak to her.’ Nick’s voice had a harsh tone to it now.
‘Never going to happen.’
‘I will find her. I guarantee it,’ warned Nick as he stared into the monitor. Carly watched him, her heart racing. He gave the door one last try and then walked away.
Fergus hugged Carly. ‘You okay?’
‘No, not really. Beth said he’d come looking for her. I think I’m starting to understand why she’s run so far away.’
Beth woke early in the small twin room of the B&B and pulled the pink candlewick bedspread up to her chin. It was many years since she’d slept under sheets and although she’d heard stories of bedspreads this was her first. She plucked at it as she listened to Leo snoring lightly. She hadn’t slept much, her mind full of buyer’s remorse. What had seemed a wonderfully romantic and spontaneous act at the auction now seemed like the epitome of stupid. Despite the state of the cottage, she had had a good feeling when she stood in the back garden with Leo. But her plan of buying something, doing superficial restoration, some painting and decorating and then a flourish of interior design before moving on to the next property was not likely to work with Willow Cottage. It needed major renovations, shoring up most likely or possibly knocking down, and she didn’t know where to start.
What was she doing? She was a Business Operations Manager. She knew about planning and executing efficiency strategies and adhering to compliance as well as how to cope in a male dominated world. She knew nothing about renovation and she feared the money she had would soon be gobbled up by this project. Most of her money was tied up in the London flat and discussing its sale with Nick was something she couldn’t face anytime soon. He had successfully blocked her access to their joint account so that didn’t leave her with much. Just thinking about him made her feel anxious.
Leo stirred and Beth turned onto her side to look at him – her gorgeous boy. He had slept well. He seemed okay even though he was miles away from London but at least he was safe. Maybe everything wasn’t such a disaster after all.
Beth was rethinking that statement later that day as yet another Morris dancer whooped towards her with a handkerchief and an exaggerated wink. Leo was dancing and laughing as if he was high on sugar, which he definitely wasn’t as Beth was fairly strict with both his sugar and fat intake. There had been lots of skipping about, banging of sticks and plenty of very repetitive music but it was quite jolly and Leo loved it. It was all a bit bonkers and quintessentially English, especially when it was performed on a village green.
After a jacket potato for lunch in the hectically busy tearoom, where the unsmiling Maureen served them, Beth decided they should have another look at Willow Cottage. She was really hoping that her brain had exaggerated what she had seen yesterday and now in the full sunshine it wouldn’t be quite so bad. Beth was also keen to see if she could get a look inside because that might actually be better than the exterior would have her believe. With the lure of an apple, Beth persuaded Leo to come and have another look at the cottage. She liked the fact that she didn’t have to answer to Nick, she could do what she wanted here and even if Willow Cottage had been a stupidly impulsive decision, at least it was her own decision. The village was a hive of activity today and there were cars parked everywhere and slow-moving jolly people clogging up every inch. They mingled their way through and, as they reached the pub, someone called to them.
‘Yoo hoo! Hello!’ It was the small elderly lady with the wheelie trolley. Beth looked around but nobody else was acknowledging the woman so she assumed she must have been talking to her.
‘Hello again,’ said Beth, stopping and waiting for the woman to get to her.
‘Now, lovey, tell me again,’ she said, slightly puffed by the effort of the last few steps.
‘Sorry?’ said Beth totally confused.
‘I want to make sure I heard right. What was it you told me yesterday?’
Beth raised an eyebrow, the bag lady was clearly quite potty, poor old soul. ‘I asked you where Willow Cottage was because I’ve recently bought it.’
The old lady burst into hysterics and all Beth and Leo could do was watch her in puzzled bewilderment.
Eventually, after lots of hand waving, she caught her breath and slowed to a chuckle. ‘Oh, my, I haven’t laughed that much since Maureen shat herself at the harvest festival.’ The memory of this event seemed to set her off again. ‘Mittens,’ she said as if remembering something.
‘Right. Well, it was nice to see you again,’ said Beth as she tentatively inched Leo away.
‘She’s funny, Mum,’ observed Leo. ‘She said “shat”! Is that the past tense of …?’
‘Leo!’ warned his mother.
There was no breeze today and the willow tree stood resplendent, a magnificent cascade in shades of summer green. Beth felt herself smile as she stepped over the broken gate, a new one of those couldn’t be that expensive. She made Leo wait there as she peeked into the willow to see if their lodger was in residence. Thankfully he wasn’t.
‘Come on,’ said Beth,
her spirits starting to lift as she tried to take Leo’s hand. Leo pulled it away and munched on his apple as they stood and examined the cottage again. She didn’t know what she was looking for. She moved forward to look at the brickwork. On closer inspection it was obviously very old but there were no major cracks that she could spot. Goodness only knows what is under the climbing plants, she thought but for now she couldn’t worry about what she couldn’t see. They squeezed round to the back of the property and Leo immediately went to see the horses, who were soon attracted by his apple and came walking over with interest.
Beth had a closer look at the stable-style back door. It was quite beautiful. She gave it a rattle. It didn’t seem to fit too well in its frame so she gave it a shove. Surely it couldn’t be breaking and entering if it was practically your own house?
From right behind her there came shouting and Beth jumped away from the door as if it were alarmed. Fear punched her in the gut. The old man that had scared them half to death yesterday had come back to finish the job, only this time there was nowhere for Beth and Leo to run. He was blocking their exit down the side of the house. Beth backed away and clutched Leo to her. The horse that had so very nearly made it to the apple made a bolt back across its field.
‘Arghhhhhhh!’ shouted the man. Beth had no idea what to do. Was this village full of mad people? Her heart was racing and she wanted to run but there was nowhere to run to.
She decided to try to be the voice of reason. ‘Look, it’s okay, we’re not burglars. This is our house.’ There was a flicker of recognition although he was still shouting. Leo had his hands pressed tightly over his ears and looked frightened. ‘We’ve bought the cottage,’ said Beth, her voice raised just enough to be heard. ‘It’s ours.’ She pointed to the cottage. The man stopped shouting.
‘No. It’s Wilf’s,’ he said, his words muffled as if he had a speech impediment. Beth remembered the lady in the shop saying something about Wilf yesterday.
‘Yes, it was Wilf’s but he’s sold it to me,’ she explained in what she hoped was a calm and soothing tone. However, this had the opposite effect as the man started to shout again.
‘Arghhhhhhh!’
There was a rustle in the climbing plant and Jack suddenly appeared, his face full of concern. Beth felt the stiffness in her shoulders ebb away as she was so thankful to see someone come to her rescue.
‘Ernie, what’s wrong?’ said Jack to the shouting man, his voice smooth and gentle and far less gruff than the tone he had used towards her when they’d bumped into each other.
Ernie pointed at Beth. ‘Breaking in!’
‘What do you think you’re doing exactly?’ The gruffness instantly returned to Jack’s voice as he turned his attention to Beth.
‘I wasn’t breaking in.’ Well, maybe she had been trying to a little bit but now was not the time to confess all. ‘I was only looking at the cottage, seeing what work would need doing.’
‘This is private property. I suggest you leave.’
Beth felt her eyebrows shoot up involuntarily at the resolve in Jack’s voice.
‘Did you notice what was on the board on the front of the property?’ she asked, starting to feel more in control of the situation as she knew she was about to wrong-foot him.
Jack pulled a face that made one of his eyes squint up and he looked quite comical. ‘It’s a picture of a chicken.’
Beth was starting to get frustrated. ‘No, not that one. The one that shows when the auction was. Well, it was last week and I bought it. So technically you are on my private property and you should leave.’
Jack rubbed his chin. ‘You can’t have completed on this place that quickly,’ he said, as Ernie looked on, his face etched with concern.
‘No, not exactly but everything is going through and we complete next week.’
‘So, technically none of us should be here.’ He was being pedantic now and that was quite irritating.
‘Then we should all leave. Come on, Leo,’ and she ushered Leo through the gap in the plant and squished herself through after him with as much dignity as she could muster with the leaves tangling in her hair.
As they all stumbled into the overgrown front garden Beth tugged bits of greenery and small white flowers out of her hair and walked off with Leo. A glance over her shoulder saw Ernie disappear under the canopy of the willow tree and Beth stopped in her tracks, nearly making Leo trip over.
‘Come on, Mum,’ he said, his voice a borderline whine.
‘Hang on,’ Beth had her hands on her hips now as Jack approached. ‘Who is that dangerous man exactly?’ she pointed to the tree.
‘That’s Ernie. He’s not in the slightest bit dangerous. He’s part of the village; lived here all his life.’
Beth felt the dig, Jack wasn’t one that was going to accept outsiders easily.
‘He shouldn’t be living under a tree.’
‘He doesn’t,’ said Jack with almost a smile forming on his lips. ‘He has a bungalow near the school.’ Jack pointed past the B&B.
‘Then why is he sat in my garden like a hostile garden gnome?’
Jack shook his head slowly as if he couldn’t be bothered to speak any more and wandered off towards the pub leaving Beth more confused than ever.
‘Mad. They’re all stark staring bonkers in this village.’
Beth’s phone rang. ‘The voice of sanity! Hello, Carls.’
‘At last it’s not your wretched voicemail. How are you and where the hell are you?’
‘I’m feeling surprisingly normal in the village of the totally insane. How about you and Fergus?’
‘Nick came round here last night. We didn’t tell him anything but he says he’s going to find you.’
Beth couldn’t help the feeling of ice fear that trickled through her body. Her mind flashed back to the night she left. Beth looked around her: another troop of Morris dancers was in the middle of the green hopping up and down as another group practised nearby. People were chatting and laughing and the sound filled the air. This was a world away from her London life; there was absolutely nothing here that could connect her to what she’d left behind. Despite the state of Willow Cottage it made sense to stay here for the time being.
‘He’ll never find me here.’
‘Where is here exactly?’
‘Dumbleford. It’s west of Stow-on-the-Wold.’
‘Sounds like place names from Narnia to me. What’s it like?’
‘The cottage I bought is practically a ruin, there’s a man living in my willow tree, the only person under fifty thinks I’m an idiot, everyone else is barking mad and today they are having a Morris dancing competition on the village green.’
‘Actually, I like the sound of that. The Morris dancing, not the rest of it.’
Beth lowered her voice and took a step back from Leo so he wouldn’t hear what she said. ‘Between you and me I think I may have made a huge mistake with the cottage. I’m speaking to the solicitor tomorrow to see what options I have. I’ll keep you posted.’
The rest of the day was spent watching the Morris dancing and reading books in bed at the B&B. Beth tidied the small room for the second time that day. The stupid things I’ve brought from London and the important ones I haven’t, thought Beth as she picked up her glue gun and wished it was her hairdryer.
She pondered the day and hated the fact that Carly’s statement about Nick had dominated it. Everything was Nick’s fault. If Nick hadn’t refused point blank to leave the apartment they would still be in London. She missed London. She had choices in London; she could have any type of food she wanted, stay in a variety of hotels, shop for virtually anything. Here food was limited to the tearoom or the pub, there were no hotels and the handful of shops sold knick-knacks, souvenirs, and out-of-date noodles. If Nick hadn’t sounded so menacing when he said he would find her wherever she went then maybe she wouldn’t have ended up here.
Chapter Four
The solicitor confirmed what Beth had feared – that
she was committed to the purchase of Willow Cottage, there were no get-out clauses not even with the dilapidated state of the property. All responsibility for investigating the property before purchase rested with the buyer and, as she hadn’t done any of that, it was entirely her own fault. The solicitor did impart what he felt was good news: that they were completing even sooner than they’d hoped and she could pick the keys up from their offices near Stow the next morning.
‘How would I go about putting it back up for auction?’ she asked, as a sigh escaped.
‘Oh, well, I could do that for you.’
‘You see, I think I may have made a mistake and I need to sell it quickly and get the money back.’
There was a long pause at the other end of the phone. ‘I think I should probably inform you that this was the third time this property has been presented at auction. It’s been looking for a buyer for seven months.’
‘Seven months?’ Beth flopped back onto the B&B single bed. It was bouncier than she’d noticed before as her body jiggled about involuntarily.
‘I’m afraid so.’
She closed her eyes and processed the information. Beth felt her plans had been thwarted, she was stuck here with no obvious escape or quick fix. She felt a sense of resignation. ‘Do you know any good local builders?’
The B&B landlady, Jean, was not doing a bad job of keeping Leo entertained, as it turned out her own grandchildren lived in Canada so having a child in the house was a novelty. It was a shame that Leo wasn’t able to see his own grandparents but, as they had been Nick’s first port of call when she left, they wouldn’t be seeing them for a while. At least it gave Beth precious time to ring a local building firm and set up a quote. She decided that if she could get away with doing the minimum required to make the cottage habitable maybe she could get it back on the market and then make good her escape. The plan had always been to buy somewhere, do it up and then move on and repeat the exercise until she felt that Nick had given up looking for her. It probably wasn’t the finest plan but it was what she had dreamed up when she had found herself staring at another mini-bar in another random London hotel.
Escape to Willow Cottage Page 3